


No Replacement For Love

by Jinx72



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also fluff, Angst, Buckle up, Fluff, Gen, Good Deceit, He just is there a couple of times, It's Roman Angst Friendos, Platonic Prinxiety - Freeform, Roman-and-Virgil-centric, Self Confidence Issues, Self Esteem Issues, could be romantic if you wanted it to be, self deprecating thoughts, sympathetic deceit, written platonic but can be read as romantic if you want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 05:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15163247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx72/pseuds/Jinx72
Summary: Virgil has noticed something is... a little off with Roman. Emotionally. Something the prince is hiding. All attempts of sending Logan and Patton after him have fallen through; Virgil decides it's time to take matters into his own hands and find out what's really bothering Roman.Sneaking into the Imagination in the dead of night, what Virgil finds makes him wish he'd checked sooner.





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, Roman would disappear.   
Of course, not literally. He would disappear into his room and not come out for hours. They figured he was busy inspiring Thomas with his adventures, or exploring new ideas in the Imagination. They never asked; never thought to ask what he was up to. They figured it was important enough, and that if he needed them he’d ask.  
Sometimes, despite Roman’s best acting, Virgil could see the sadness veiled in his eyes. Something was plaguing the prince.  
He’d mentioned it to Patton, thinking that through Patton it’d get cleared up right away, but when Patton approached Roman, the aspect of creativity had artfully fended off all questions about his wellbeing. He ended up flipping the conversation on it’s head, and it turned out Patton was having some emotional troubles that they worked through together.  
After that fell through, Virgil causally mentioned it to Logan. Logan went quiet, thinking over it. A number of days of observation later, Logan returned to Virgil confused at what he meant. “Roman seems fine,” the logical aspect relayed. “I asked him and he said there was nothing to worry about. His behaviour backs it up, too.”

  
Still, Virgil was… worried? Suspicious? He’d seen everyone cry. He’d seen Patton break down when the world got too much. He’d even seen Logan cry, once, and gods knew the others had seen him cry, but in all Thomas’ years, Virgil had never seen so much as a tear out of the prince. Virgil shook his head. Maybe he was overthinking it. But hovering outside Roman’s door at two in the morning, the thoughts wouldn’t let him be any longer. He went to knock, but as he raised his fist in the silence of a household at night, an extremely quiet sound reached him through Roman’s door.  
It sounded like a sob.  
Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat. He was right, wasn’t he? A part of him wanted to rush in there, and a part of him hung back. Roman probably didn’t want him. But he remembered how Roman had fended off everyone else.  
Roman fought for them all the time. It was time someone fought for him.  
Virgil’s hand went for the doorknob. He might disturb Roman, but knocking gave him the definite chance of locking Virgil out. Near silently, he opened the door and slunk inside.

 

The scene was simple. Not at all what Virgil was expecting, based on the extravagant landscapes Roman would present them with when he invited them to his realm. The sky was cloudy, but still pleasant. The hill they were on had a few trees at the top. The grass was soft and green. Little wildflowers dotted the carpet. Underneath one of the trees, a picnic quilt of five colours was laid out. Virgil let the door close silently behind him. The breeze tousled his hair gently, and birdsong echoed around. At the top of the hill, on the rug, sat Roman.

 

Roman had his back to Virgil, his hair shifting gently in the breeze. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, arms tucked around them. He was very still. Virgil slowly began to creep up the hill, taking refuge behind one of the large oak trees. He was about to call out to Roman when someone beat him to it.  
“Roman!”  
Virgil ducked back behind the tree before he was spotted. A part of him was glad. Patton was here. Patton had persisted. Patton was better with people than Virgil was.  
Virgil peered around the tree to see… a Patton _appear_? And then in sequence, Logan, Deceit and himself. They were _copies?  
_ Virgil froze at the sight of himself. And Deceit? Why was he here?

Mind reeling, Virgil was torn from his thoughts at the sound of a sniffle. His gaze snapped back to Roman, who was wiping his cheeks dry roughly. The Patton construct bounded up the hill in a very accurate manner and plopped down next to Roman on the rug. He threw his arm around the prince. “What did they say, kiddo?” he asked.  
Virgil felt his breath catch in his throat as Roman dropped his head onto Patton’s shoulder and the others caught up, sitting around him. “Nothing unjustified,” Roman muttered. “Nothing new.”  
The Logan construct placed a hand on his shoulder. “Falsehood,” he said firmly. “They did not intend it to hurt.”  
Roman pulled away from Patton and rested his chin on his knees again. “I know they mean well,” Roman replied. “But they need to rein me in. I’m too much.”  
“They ought to work _with_ you,” the Deceit construct said gently, in a soft tone Virgil had never heard out of the real Dark Side before. “They ought to embrace it, not stifle it.”  
“They know what they’re doing,” Roman rebuked quietly.  
There was a moment of silence.  
“You’re not quite what I need right now,” Roman mumbled to himself. The Deceit construct nodded in understanding, before dissolving into the air.  
Virgil crept forward to the next tree, heart in his throat. He watched the constructs settle around Roman comfortably, with a familial ease that made Virgil’s gut twist. The Logan construct settled himself over Roman’s shoulders in a comfortable embrace. “I appreciate your ideas,” he said in a soothing voice. “They are equally as intelligent as mine.”  
Roman leaned back into the embrace, but didn’t reply. “I was hard on you, but I go hard on you because you are at that level at which I deem I can,” the construct continued with a gentle tone that was rare from Logan. In fact, Virgil could recall when it was used. At himself, definitely, and maybe Patton. He hadn’t ever heard that tone directed at Roman before.  
“You are my equal,” the Logan construct continued to murmur. “You are valid.”  
Virgil’s gut twisted as he saw Roman’s shoulders shake. “I’m just so tired,” the prince murmured, voice thick with thinly-veiled grief.  
“Then lie down, Ro,” Patton said, a pillow appearing in his hands. “It’s late, and you’ve worked really hard.”

Roman took it with shaking hands, looking down at it like he didn’t know what to do with it. Virgil watched his own construct roll his eyes good-naturedly, and take the pillow from Roman. He put it down next to him, and patted it. Roman didn’t shoot any barbs or make any snide comments, he just lay down and curled up, staring off across the gently rolling hills. Roman’s back was to Virgil, but he could see the tension in the prince’s posture. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his construct reach out and begin to stroke Roman’s hair. “You spread yourself too thin,” the construct said.  
“I have a lot to do,” Roman replied evenly.  
“You know that some of it can be split among the others. Patton used to do a fair amount of it. You could give me some.”  
“But he has more in other places with you now being here… and you. You’re busy. I’m sure. I don’t want to be any more of a burden,” Roman said. Virgil wanted to interrupt, but his voice wouldn’t escape his throat. He felt sick. Why wouldn’t he come to any of them for real?

Then that little voice in the back of his head added:  
_Why would he?_

The world was beginning to darken. He could see the rise and fall of Roman’s shoulders evening out as the construct of Virgil continued to pet his hair. “Sleep well, Roman,” he murmured.  
The tree under Virgil’s fingers began to melt away. The fantasy began to fall apart as Roman drifted off to sleep. Virgil was left standing there, heart in his throat, as the constructs turned to him. They all had sad smiles on their faces.   
“Now someone knows,” the Logan construct said, and he sounded happy.  
“You can help him, right?” the Patton one chimed, clasping his hands over his heart.  
The one of himself stared him dead in the eye with the intensity only Virgil had. “He needs you,” he stated.  
Virgil’s voice was still trapped in his chest, but he nodded none-the-less.  
“Come back tomorrow night,” Logan instructed.   
Virgil nodded again as they began to melt away as well.   
“Thank you,” they all said in unison, and this time, they all sounded like Roman.  
Virgil was left in the darkened imagination with a sleeping Prince. He approached Roman gently, making sure not to wake him up, before carefully lifting him in a bridal hold, and carrying him off to his room.

 

Virgil couldn’t keep himself from anxiously wringing his hands as they went about breakfast the next day. He waved off Logan’s raised eyebrow and the silent question. Logan was the first to notice when he was off. Patton wasn’t far behind, who quietly asked him how he was doing as he set out a bowl for cereal out on the bench for the aspect of anxiety. Virgil waved him off too, gentler, feigning it as Thomas getting especially nervous over the next video. They bought it easily enough.  
He hung around at the dining table for longer than he should of. Patton and Logan had hurried off, busying themselves with everyday tasks, but Virgil stayed, picking at a crack in the handle of the My Chemical Romance mug Roman had bought him one Christmas. He waited for the prince. And he waited.

A solid hour or so later, Roman staggered down the stairs, doing his best to muffle a yawn. He was all dressed up in his normal regalia, but Virgil noticed his boots were laced far less carefully than normal, and his hair hadn’t quite the same refined perfection it normally had. In fact, now he looked closer, Virgil noticed Roman’s precious jacket was crumpled and creased, like it had spent a night or two on the floor. The prince held himself differently too, at least for a few steps. By the time he’d gotten to the bottom of the staircase, he was as bright, bubbly and glittery as he normally was. Marching himself into the kitchen, he flashed Virgil a charming grin as he reached for a bowl.   
Virgil glanced at the clock. It read quarter to eleven. At the latest, Princey was normally down by 9 o’clock. And his actions didn’t have the normal bounce in them.   
Roman came over with a bowl of cereal and slumped into a seat across from Virgil with a quiet _humph._   
Virgil let him eat, but a quiet question chewed him up inside until his raw nerves couldn’t take it.  
“H-hey, Princey?” he started.  
Roman looked up, and smiled. “Yes, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” he asked, the normal teasing tone creeping into his voice. Virgil could read this. He wanted to gloss over everything, trying to make Virgil rise to the bait of tossing sarcastic comments back and forth.   
Virgil’s eyes fell back down to his tea, and he kept picking, picking, picking at the crack.  
Roman’s smile slipped. “Virgil?” he queried tentatively.  
Virgil gave a weak smile in response, before taking a steadying breath and forcing out the question that had been eating at him all night. “Are you okay?”  
Roman froze briefly, confusion in his eyes.  
“I’m positively spiffing today, thanks Virgil,” he began, but Virgil shook his head.  
“I don’t mean like, today,” he explained, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, like, in general. Recently. Have you been okay?”  
The life died in Roman’s eyes. He stared down into his cereal. He didn’t meet Virgil’s gaze.  
“Yes," he replied. "I’m… _okay."_

That spoke chapters for Roman.   
Normally, he was doing ‘grand,’ or ‘marvellously,’ or some other word you’d need a thesaurus for.  
Virgil snaked his hand across the table before tentatively placing it on Roman’s spoon-holding one. Roman blinked at it in surprise. Virgil bit his lip when he felt how cold the prince’s hand was.   
“Well, if you need someone to… y’know,” he fumbled, flushing in shame as he just couldn’t put the words he wanted together.  
Roman chuckled, before looking up at Virgil.   
“Is it that obvious?” he asked, and Virgil didn’t miss the bitterness in Roman’s tone.  
“Only to me, it seems,” Virgil commented, before flushing an even brighter shade of red at the connotations of what he said.  
Roman shook his head with a smile, and gently snaked his hand out from under Virgil’s.  
“That’s very kind of you,” he said politely, and it was very polite. It was stingingly polite.   
Virgil blinked long and hard to avoid letting hurt show in his eyes. “If it gets any worse,” he said, “promise me you’ll get help.”  
Roman raised a shaky, but brave eyebrow.  
“I know what it’s like to be stuck in your own head,” Virgil mumbled, the adrenaline that had been giving him the courage to have this conversation wearing off. His fingernails tapped out an erratic pattern on the table top.  
Virgil didn’t miss the way Roman’s eyes softened at that. “I promise,” he said solemnly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have projects that must be done if I want to keep up with Logan’s confounded schedule!”  
And there it was again. The bravado. Roman was a prince again.  
As Roman put his bowl in the sink, Virgil stood. Roman passed him to head back upstairs, and Virgil forced himself to say something more.  
“Don’t spread yourself too thin, okay Roman?” he called half-heartedly.  
Roman froze at the foot of the stairs.  
“It might not sound like I think so, but your ideas are great,” Virgil added, before vaulting over the couch and collapsing into the seat. He pulled his hood up, and fiddled with the ends of his sleeves as he heard Roman quietly reply. “T-thank you, Virgil.”  
He heard Roman’s footsteps retreat up the stairs a little too quickly. But that was alright.  
He’d check on him tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

It was once again 2am.  
Virgil hovered outside Roman’s door. He’d doublechecked Logan and Patton were asleep. He had his ear to the door, listening. Was it time? Was he too early? Was Roman even awake? Did he blow it? He probably had, typical of him, wasn’t it-  
He heard a quiet sniff.  
Thankfully using it as an incentive to push those thoughts away, Virgil silently opened the door and slunk inside.

  
It was the same scene. The hill, the pleasant breeze, the sky covered in light grey, patchy clouds, the wildflowers, the blanket. Roman sat like he did yesterday, but he was wound up _tighter,_ if that was even possible. Virgil could see it in the way Roman’s shoulders were hunched, in the way his knuckles were white with tension as he gripped the picnic blanket.  
Mustering his courage, Virgil took a quiet, steadying breath and stepped past the first tree he had cowered behind the day before. As Roman took a shuddering breath, the constructs appeared next to Virgil.  
Virgil jumped, clapping a hand over his own mouth to prevent noise escaping.  
The Logan pressed a supportive hand into the small of his back, a gesture the real Logan had done many times before. It even felt the same.  
The Patton gave him a thumbs-up, smile quirking the same way the real Patton did.  
The Virgil looked him dead in the eye, before elbowing him gently in the arm in the way _he_ did. “You got this,” the Virgil whispered, before dissolving into the air. Virgil shook his hands quickly, dispelling the anxious energy, before following the remaining projections up the hill.

  
Roman was surprised to see them come from behind, and Virgil felt a stab of guilt as he realised the prince looked worse for wear. The Patton flung his arms around him immediately, showering quiet praise and comforts as Logan settled down on his other side. Forcing himself to act naturally, Virgil sat where his construct had the night before. One hand had disappeared into his overly long sleeve, fingernails picking at the inside seam of the cuff.  
Roman only began to relax when Logan knelt behind him and began to massage his shoulders.  
“It’s okay, Roman,” the Logan said. “You aren’t weak.”  
“They won’t think any less of you if you go to them,” the Patton chimed in.  
“V-Virgi-… _I_ won’t think any less of you if you come to us-, uh, them,” Virgil added, fumbling with words.  
It must’ve been the question on Roman’s mind, because the tears he’d been fighting proceeded to roll down his cheeks.  
“He meant what he said,” Virgil murmured, looking down at a little purple wildflower by his toe.  
Roman shook his head.  
“I don’t want to burden him,” he mumbled, putting his face in his knees. “I-I’m also not sure he meant it.”  
That had Virgil’s attention. He turned to face Roman head on, throwing caution to the wind as his gut twisted. “What do you mean?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.  
“V-Virge,” Roman began, trying to put the words he wanted together, staring up at the sky. “He has no reason to like me.”  
“He has every reason to like you,” Virgil rebuked.  
“After everything I did to him before? Yeah, right,” Roman continued bitterly.  
Oh. That was what it was all about.  
“I can… um, he can see that you’ve made a huge effort to change,” Virgil replied, shuffling over to the prince. “And he knows that it isn’t easy.”  
“It shouldn’t be hard to be a good person,” Roman growled, shrugging the Logan construct off.  
With a defeated shrug, the Logan construct dissolved.  
The Patton one shook his head. “Roman, you _are_ a good person,” he said gently. “Because a bad person can’t tell what they’ve done wrong, and never changes. You acknowledge your faults-”  
“To probably too great an extent,” Virgil added.  
“And you just aren’t fair on yourself,” the Patton continued, shooting Virgil a grateful look.  
“I don’t deserve _fair.”_  
Virgil was closer to the prince than he’d ever thought to get before, and he wasn’t backing down. He knelt in front of him, hands on his shoulders, and stared him head in the eye. “You deserve the world.”  
Roman’s eyes shot open wide.  
“Y-you’re such an important part of this weird, dysfunctional family and I know Thomas couldn’t do what he does without you,” Virgil stated. “You can be loud, you can be obnoxious sometimes, but o-on the whole…” Virgil’s eyes softened and his voice dropped in volume. “I think you’re pretty great.”  
Roman stared, searching Virgil’s eyes with a dumb-founded, questioning look.  
“Really?”  
Oh, that hurt. He’d never heard the prince sound so small.  
Virgil drew Roman forward into a gentle hug.  
“Really really,” he confirmed. He felt Roman bury his face into the shoulder of his hoodie. He felt the prince’s lips move into a smile.  
“Thanks,” Roman mumbled. It sounded hollow. Roman’s shoulders sagged.  
“You must be exhausted,” Virgil said, pulling back and sitting next to him.  
Roman shrugged.  
The Patton construct gave Virgil a subtle thumbs up.  
Virgil patted his thighs. “You wanna lie down?” he asked softly, unsure if this was the right thing to do.  
Roman looked at him, expression unreadable, before he slowly uncurled, and lay down, placing his head in Virgil’s lap. He stared out across the rolling hills.  
The Patton mouthed a silent _‘thank you’_ to the aspect of anxiety, conjuring a blanket in his hands and spreading it across the prince. The Patton placed a gentle kiss on Roman’s temple, and sat on next to Virgil.  
Roman bit his lip. “I wish this were real,” he said softly. His words were nearly snatched by the breeze.  
“What makes you think it can’t be?” Virgil replied softly. He hesitantly reached out and began to stroke Princey’s hair. After getting no protest from Roman, Virgil relaxed slightly, and continued. It was a soothing gesture, also for him. Roman’s hair was soft. He threaded his fingers through it gently, massaging Roman’s scalp.  
“Because,” Roman started, voice cracking. “This is all in the Imagination. None of this is real. You’re just me making myself feel better by pretending to be other people caring about me. How pathetic is that?”  
“The only pathetic thing is the rest of them not noticing how much you need them,” Virgil rebuked bitterly.  
Roman shook his head , but didn’t lift it from Virgil’s thigh. Around a quivering breath, he blinked up at Virgil. “I should let this fantasy go,” he said. “I’m sure it’s late. I don’t want Logan to yell at me about my sleeping schedule again tomorrow. Today? I don’t even know.”  
Virgil looked across the landscape at that, pondering an answer. “Logan… needs to chill sometimes,” Virgil admitted. “We all do, to be honest.”  
Roman chuckled, but it was hollow and bitter. “I guess.”

He looked back across to the horizon, and blinked, long and deliberate. He let go of the fantasy. The realm around them began to fade away, melting into grey nothingness. Virgil watched the Patton dissolve. The construct put a supportive hand on his knee. Its hand was the last thing to fade.  
Roman closed his eyes as the world disappeared. Virgil did too, practicing his breathing exercises to keep himself here with Roman, to not bolt for the door.  
Roman needed him right now.

Roman went limp, but when Virgil touched his hair gently again, he tensed at the realisation that _someone was still here_. His eyes shot open, and he bolted upright.  
The prince stared at Virgil in the grey emptiness of the inactive Imagination. His mouth moved without words, and Virgil looked away as Roman began to cry.  
“It’s… it’s really you?” Roman whispered, in shock.  
“Yeah,” Virgil mumbled.  
Roman slowly reached out a hand and cupped Virgil’s chin, guiding their gazes back to each other with a shaking grip, like he couldn’t believe that Virgil was real. Like he needed to reassure himself. Tears were dripping silently down his face, his eyes were wide and vulnerable.  
“D-do the others know?”  
Virgil shook his head. “It’s only me,” he confirmed. “And I know I’m the last person you’d want but I couldn-”  
“All those things you said,” Roman interrupted. “All those things you said tonight… that was actually you?”  
“I meant every word, Princey,” Virgil replied firmly, gripping Roman’s hand firmly. “Both this morning and tonight. You. Are. Necessary.”  
Roman ducked his head, but Virgil’s other hand reached out and guided his chin back up.  
“You. Are. Needed,” he continued, staring the prince dead in the eye with the kind of intensity only anxiety could muster.  
“You. Are. _Loved.”_

Roman burst into tears uncontrollably. Virgil let him collapse on him in a desperate embrace. His hand automatically went to pet Roman’s hair comfortingly.  
“I never want you to feel like you can’t come to any of us,” Virgil continued, hugging Roman tightly. “If not the others, then me. You know I never sleep at night, and even if I’m asleep, you have express permission to wake me up. I can give you it in writing, so you don’t forget, or doubt it.”  
Roman’s shoulders shook with what Virgil thought might be tearful laughter.  
“I’d like to tell the others, but I understand if you want to keep it between us,” Virgil said.  
“For now,” Roman mumbled in immediate reply. “Just us for now.”  
“Okay,” Virgil agreed. “That’s okay. It’ll be okay. You aren’t okay, and that is okay. But you will be okay.”  
“Okay,” said Roman, pulling away from Virgil’s shoulder to reveal the tiny smile on the prince’s face.  
“...Thanks, Virgil.”  
Virgil got to his feet, extending a hand to the prince with a small smile. “Anytime, Princey.”  
Roman took his hand, letting the anxious aspect haul him to his feet. Virgil pulled out his phone to check the time. “Alright, it’s 3:45am,” he said. “That’s practically 4am. Everyone knows when you get to 4am there’s like, no point in going to sleep.”  
“Really?” Roman asked, looking down at the time. “That is-”  
“Don’t tell me that’s when you normally go to sleep,” Virgil interrupted, staring the prince down.  
Roman smiled. “Alright. I will not tell you,” he joked.  
Virgil rolled his eyes to hide his concern.  
“What I’m trying to propose,” he continued, “is that we just watch a movie or whatever.”  
Roman thought about it. “Sounds nice.”  
“Then you can have a nap or whatever when you’re tired enough to sleep.”  
They left the Imagination, heading to the Commons.  


“What do you want to watch?” Virgil asked, pulling out some DVDs.  
“For once in my life,” Roman stated as he flomped onto the couch. “I’m not in the mood to watch Disney.”  
Virgil fake-gasped, clutching the copy of _Beauty and the Beast_ he happened to be holding to his chest. Roman laughed at him, open and tired, but genuine none-the-less.  
“That’s fine by me,” Virgil followed up, dropping the mock-shock. He put it back down, and stacked the other Disney DVDs away.  
“So, live-action?”  
“I’d still like to watch animation, if that’s alright.”  
“Yeah, totally.”  
Virgil scrounged the shelves for something. He was debating between _How to Train Your Dragon_ and _Shrek_ before he saw different film. He pulled it out with a smile, and presented it to the prince. “How about it?” he asked.  
“ _The Polar Express?_ It’s a Christmas movie,” Roman said, confused.  
“It’s a classic,” Virgil shot back.  
“It’s July,” Roman argued.  
“It’s got Tom Hanks in it,” Virgil countered.  
Roman laughed.  
“Fair enough,” he agreed.

Virgil put it on, before grabbing a blanket and settling on the sofa next to Roman. He spread the blanket over the two of them, and let Roman nestle up into his side. He put his arm around Roman as the movie began, hesitantly, but Roman smiled up at him and put his head on Virgil’s shoulder.  
Within the first half-hour they were both fast asleep.  


When Logan and Patton came downstairs that morning, they stood at the foot of the stairs, glancing at each other in shock at the sight of Virgil and Roman cuddling on the sofa whilst the TV hummed with the menu screen of a Christmas movie looping at a low volume. Logan switched off the DVD player and the TV whilst Patton took a quick photo before they went on to prepare breakfast together. They stayed quiet, so as not to disturb the pair. It looked like they needed the sleep.  


Virgil woke sluggishly to the sound of a hushed but still animated debate between Patton and Logan.  
“Let them sleep more! They look exhausted.”  
“It’s ten o’clock, Patton. Any later and it will further ruin the schedule of the day!” Logan hissed in response.  
They both watched Virgil lift his head slowly, grumbling under his breath. Virgil went to sit up, but blinked at the prince on his shoulder. Last night, or should he say, this morning, came flooding back, and a tiny, concerned frown touched his lips.  
“Virgil, glad to see you’re awake,” Logan started in a normal volume.  
_“Shhh,”_ Virgil hushed, finger to his lips. He nodded at the still sleeping Roman. “He really needs it.”  
Logan huffed a defeated sigh as Patton triumphantly put his hands on his hips.  
“Look, it was like, 4am when we came downstairs, Logan,” Virgil quietly rumbled, eyes staring forward to stare at the blank TV screen.  
_“4 o’clock in the morning,”_ Logan reinstated disbelievingly. “Virgil, you _know_ that’s unhealthy-”  
“Yeah,” Virgil interrupted, shushing him again with a finger to his lips. “I know. It’s not normal for me. Normally 2am at the latest.”  
Patton put a silencing hand on Logan’s shoulder to quiet the logical side’s indignant spluttering. “Well, we can make you guys some breakfast,” he said.  
Virgil looked down at Roman, whose face was so much more relaxed than he’d seen in a long time.  
“Give us a bit,” Virgil said.  
“But-” Logan tried.  
“No,” replied Virgil. “Now hand me the TV remote.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: This chapter has a single paragraph of Deceit towards the end but he chill.  
> Thanks for reading this far!

Roman woke with a start.  
He wasn’t in his room or the Imagination. He was not where he should be.  
Where was he?  
Someone was holding him _down_ _he was kidnapped he had to escape_ Roman began to squirm and thrash, a wordless shriek escaping his lips.  
His elbow hit something.  
To his confusion, the hold around him vanished, his bonds were swiftly removed, and-  
Roman rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

Staring up at the ceiling he knew and feeling the carpet that was familiar under his fingers, Roman’s breathing evened out as what happened last night hit him in a wave. Was there shouting in the background? Tears began to bead at the corners of his eyes. The last thing he remembered was watching the Polar Express with-  
“Virgil!” he cried suddenly, bolting upright. Realisation hit him like iced water. “Virgil, I’m sorry!”  
Virgil was kneeling next to him, having scrambled off the sofa in a rush to check he was alright.  
“Roman?” he demanded, worry in his eyes.  
Roman collapsed in on himself, and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Bed Goth and Beyond,” he said, rubbing his face tiredly.  
“You good?” the Side asked warily.  
Roman nodded, not lifting his head.  
“Yes… Just… Sometimes, falling asleep in the Imagination leads to you waking up in…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “…places you don’t want to be in. I panicked.”  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Virgil soothed, helping Roman to his feet. “I probably shouldn’t’ve been holding you so tight. The blankets were a bit restrictive, too. Sorry. I – uh – like the weight of them when I sleep.”  
Roman smiled, however shakily, gripping Virgil’s hand tightly. “It’s fine,” he replied. “It’s perfectly fine.”  
His smile disappeared when he watched Virgil turn his head, and a big red mark on his jawline came into view. He frowned at it, a frown which changed from confusion to horror. He _clocked Virgil in the jaw, ye gods he was a terrible friend._  
Virgil covered it with a hand, more to hide it from view than the pain. “Hey, it’s fine. You’re a fighter. I forgot. It was my fault.”  
“But I-”  
“Chill, Hamlet. You were barely awake.” Virgil shrugged. “It’ll heal.”  
“Jaws are fragile,” Roman said guiltily as Virgil lead him to the dining table. “Easy to break. And a broken jaw is _painful.”_  
“Please tell me you do not speak from experience, Roman,” a voice said. Roman jumped, only now noticing Logan and Patton in the kitchen.

Roman’s wide eyes told them everything they needed to know, before Roman covered it up with a big, careless shrug, sleezing out a “Who’s to say?”  
“ _You’s_ to say,” Logan retorted, folding his arms. To Virgil and Roman’s amusement, completely unintentionally, Patton folded his arms disapprovingly at the exact same time.  
Roman turned to Virgil, that playful glint in his eye.  
“Ah,” he lamented. “I’m getting the _double specs lecture!_ Save me!”  
As Logan and Patton silently argued with their eyebrows about who was copying who, Virgil snickered into his hand.  
“Still, you never _told_ us you broke your jaw,” Patton brought the conversation back around to the point it seemed Roman was avoiding.  
After a moment, Roman shrugged again, but this time it was just _tired._ “I… you were all busy.”  
A pathetic excuse.  
“It healed. It was fine.”  
An even weaker one.  
“It’s _not_ though,” Virgil said, bumping Roman’s hip with his own gently. “Remember? You can come to us for anything.”  
Roman folded his arms defensively.

Logan observed his face, trying to place something. Something behind logic’s eyes softened. He strode out of the kitchen and stopped in front of Roman, who had gone from confidently jesting to meekly cowering in an instant, wondering what he’d done wrong. Logan took a moment, but then he opened his arms awkwardly. “You look like you require an embrace for your emotional wellbeing,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the squeak from Patton. Roman’s jaw hit the floor, but he, hesitantly, accepted.  
Logan didn’t _hug_ very often. It was nice. It was _real._  
If he was being perfectly honest with himself, it was not something Roman had ever expected to get.

That was his only explanation to curling into the embrace like a snake on a flat rock on the hot sun, desperate for any warmth it can get. That was his only explanation for burying his head in Logan’s shoulder and trying to keep himself from crying into Logan’s dress shirt. That was his only explanation for those tears escaping anyway when one of Logan’s hands went to his hair and ran through it comfortingly.  
“The mind is a tricky thing,” Logan said quietly, but his words were the only other thing in the silence bar Roman’s gasping breaths. “It’s easy to get caught up in itself, isn’t it?”  
Roman nodded. There wasn’t anything he wanted to risk saying.  
“You are like me,” Logan said, in a matter-of-fact way that he adopted when he talked about something he had considered and researched many times before.  
“We are both thinkers.”  
Roman just nodded again.  
“And your concepts are on par with mine in…” Logan searched haltingly for the word he wanted.  
He settled on “validity.”  
Roman pulled away, putting a knuckle between his teeth to muffle the soft keen that escaped his mouth.  
“Y-you don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” he whispered.  
Logan recoiled in surprise as Patton rushed forward. “Oh, no, no, _no,_ kiddo,” he gushed, enveloping the prince in a desperate hug. “We wouldn’t lie to you about how much we love you! What kind of family would we be?”

Roman could sense his presence on the stairs before the others did. Roman turned and looked up at Deceit. The others balked at the sight of him, but Roman offered a tired wave. Deceit smiled softly, waving meekly back. Instead of opening his mouth to offer a slew of lies, Deceit began to sign instead.  
“If you wanted to know, they’re telling the truth,” he signed.  
Roman’s teeth dug into his hand slightly harder.  
“Don’t do that,” Deceit chided, a frown furrowing his brow. Then, verbally, for the others’ sake, he added. “That totally does _not_ look like it hurts, Creativity.”  
Virgil took the hit, gently tugging at Roman’s wrist until the creative aspect removed his hand from his mouth. Deceit smiled. “We care about you,” he continued, hands flying. “If you need anyone else to talk to, you know where to find me.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Roman replied, absent-mindedly slipping into sign language himself in response. “Thank you, Dee.”  
“You speak sign?” Virgil asked, reflecting the other Sides’ surprise. Roman blinked, not realising he’d swapped languages, nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Deceit’s lies only impact his spoken words.”  
Logan nodded in interest, impressed by this new-found knowledge.  
“We should all learn it, then!” Patton said excitedly.  
“It would be beneficial for Thomas to learn it, also,” agreed Logan.  
Deceit fought off a smile, before bidding farewell and disappearing once again up the stairs.

Roman rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that felt like was winding up his core. “How’re’ya feeling, kiddo?” Patton asked quietly, putting his chin on Roman’s shoulder as he hugged him from behind. Roman tried to stop himself from leaning into the embrace, but Patton didn’t seem to mind.  
“… Better,” he replied truthfully.  
The room was silent.  
The rumble of Roman’s stomach broke the silence.  
Laughter filled the air.  
“Sit down, you two,” Logan instructed, going back into the kitchen with Patton on his heels. “The waffles are almost prepared.”  
_“Waffles,”_ Roman whispered to Virgil as they sat at the dining table. “They’re pulling out the big guns.”  
Virgil huffed out a breathy laugh. “You deserve the big guns,” he replied softly, under the clinking of cutlery and the clatter of ceramic plates.  
Roman smiled softly in return. Virgil could see in his eyes that the prince really didn’t believe that yet. And that was okay. Virgil would prove to Roman that the prince was worth the world. They’d work on it together.


End file.
